


Something Other Than Alone

by darkandlightentwining (Phantomfluffandstuff)



Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bedside Hand-Holding, Cuddling, Either the strongest friendship ever, Hugs, Just bros being bros, M/M, Male Bonding, Mutual Support, One Shot, Or a gay romance, Pain, Sorrow, You Decide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 07:12:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15043511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phantomfluffandstuff/pseuds/darkandlightentwining
Summary: After Josie's death, Cooper decides to stay with Harry and get him through a tough night, after having gone through a similar experience after the death of his own Caroline. (Lots of fluff and Harry/Dale cuteness. Also, we're just gonna pretend that no one comes in and attempts to kill Harry the night after Josie's death.)





	Something Other Than Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, Twin Peaks fandom! It's my first time writing something for you guys and honestly, I'm super excited about it! I just found out about Twin Peaks like three months ago but I already love it to death and I'm super excited to contribute something. Maybe I'll even add some more stuff later for our favorite boys, or maybe some other ships... Who knows? But I'm glad to finally meet you guys! Disclaimer: Twin Peaks and all its characters belong to David Lynch, Mark Frost, et al., not myself. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy...

“Hawk, I don’t think it’s the best idea for him to be alone right now, concerning what happened to him only a few, short hours ago. A person needs time to recover, Hawk, and even a man as strong as Harry should have some time to grieve before going back into action. No one, at least as far as I have met, is immune to what I have found to be the most human process of all-- emotion.”

Special Agent Cooper glanced over his shoulder at the form of his sleeping friend, sprawled out across his bed, the covers that had been draped across him only after he had fallen asleep surrounding him haphazardly. Hawk, following Cooper’s gaze, nodded slowly, just slightly out of Cooper’s range of vision. Harry let out a heavy sigh and turned in his bed. 

“Yeah, I agree with you, Cooper,” Hawk said, his words jolting Cooper’s attention back to the only other conscious person in the room. “He’s not in a good state right now, and I don’t think it’s a bad idea to have someone with him, just in case. But if you have more pressing things to do, I’d be happy to stay here with him, you know.” 

Cooper frowned, the motion drawing a crease across his forehead. “That’s very kind of you, Hawk, but I’m happy to do it. Today, I have drinken a total of approximately seven cups of coffee, and I am not feeling particularly tired at the moment.”

“Seven cups?” Hawk raised an eyebrow. “You know, Cooper, caffeine is considered to be a mild stimulant.”

“I know.” The frown did not leave Cooper’s face but there was a twinkle in his eye that had not been there before. “And if you don’t mind, I wouldn’t say no to an eighth cup, just to get me through tonight.” 

His lips turned up slightly, but despite his earlier claim that he was not tired, Hawk could have sworn there was a deep exhaustion in Coop’s eyes that made Hawk disregard the sheer amount of coffee Cooper had already drinken that day in favor of that eighth cup. Besides, if Cooper really was planning to stay at Harry’s beside all night, Hawk didn’t want him falling asleep. 

“Sure,” he conceded with a smile. “Comin’ right up.”

“Thanks, Hawk. I owe you one.” The smile had already faded from Cooper’s face, and his eyes had found their way back to Harry’s turned back as he slept. 

Somehow, Hawk knew, with that slight, completely natural look Cooper cast towards the Sheriff that he was no longer wanted with the two men, and he took his cue to go, at least until he returned with the coffee. But, he thought, as he walked out of the room, he was happy it was Cooper who was staying with Harry and not himself. Harry and Cooper had gotten along wonderfully since the beginning of their partnership, and while it had taken years for Hawk and Harry to grow comfortable enough around each other to begin calling themselves friends, it had taken the new FBI agent all of a day to reach the same point in his relationship with Harry. Hawk did not resent him for it, however-- if anything, it made him appreciate Cooper more, with his approachable attitude and gentle care. But when it came down to it, there was something that Cooper and Harry shared that he and Harry did not. In fact, now that he thought about it, Hawk was not sure anyone shared quite the same bond with the Sheriff as Coop did. What it was, or why the two were so quick to share it, Hawk did not know. But he did know, out of all the deputies, it seemed the most natural that it should be Cooper to stay with Harry during his hour of need. 

Harry’s coffee machine made a click as Hawk turned it on and began to brew coffee. 

A few doors down, Cooper stood in the same place he had when Hawk left, leaning against the wall several feet from the doorway, keeping a close eye on Harry. For a brief moment, he considered moving, pulling up a chair along side the other man and making himself comfortable, but it didn’t seem worthwhile to try when Hawk was just going to come back in another minute anyway. Already, Cooper could smell the familiar scent of coffee wafting through the small house, bringing him that slightly feeling of comfort that nothing else could quite bring. Wherever he went, whenever he went there, there was always coffee-- one of the few consistent things that existed outside of his control. And for that, he appreciated it. As well as, of course, the fact that it had gotten him through countless days at the bureau, separated only by a handful of nearly sleepless nights. Yes, coffee was a true joy. 

Joy. Harry’s love had just died, and he was thinking about the joy coffee brought him. Even though Harry was fast asleep, and such thoughts were confined only to Cooper’s mind, he felt bad for thinking them when his friend was likely experiencing some of the worst pain of his life. And who knew better than Cooper? Caroline had died in his arms, just as Josie had died in Harry’s. He knew-- truly knew-- the suffering that Harry was experiencing at the moment, even if his accident had happened years ago, and Harry’s was as raw still as a newly opened wound. He knew. 

With a slight sigh, he pushed himself off the wall and had just begun to take several slow steps towards Harry when the door opened and Hawk presented him with a freshly brewed cup of coffee. Cooper thanked him, but could manage nothing more at the onslaught of memories that overcame him at the thought of Caroline’s death. Maybe Hawk saw this, because hardly a second later, the door was closing and Coop heard the sound of heavy footsteps treading out of Harry’s house. Somewhere outside, a car engine revved to life, only to disappear moments later as Hawk left. 

Now, it was just him and Harry. 

Coffee in hand, Cooper crossed over to the bed, searching for something that would be comfortable enough for him to stay in for the remainder of the night because, as much as he favored on-floor meditation, he did not favor it for seven hours straight. The first and most prominent candidate he saw was a faded, floral patterned sofa sitting in the corner of the room, where it had likely been stationed for years, one of the few things that Harry had not up-ended or destroyed. The chair seemed to have found the most ideal spot for its existence in the whole room-- Coop made a mental note to compliment Harry on his chair-placement later-- and he was loath to move it. But he needed something. Harry wouldn’t mind, Cooper knew, and he would move it back as soon as the night was over. So, several moments of pushing and rearranging later, the sofa had been transferred to beside Harry’s bed, the seat only far enough away from Harry’s face for Cooper to be able to put his legs down. 

He took a slow sip of his coffee. _Still hot._ The time was going to pass slowly tonight, he already knew, and although he would have liked nothing more than a few hours of sleep after everything that had just happened, perhaps a few hours of silent self-evaluation could be just as beneficial. With everything going on, Cooper had simply not had enough time to sit and think, and now, he needed it more than ever, dealing so closely with a case that involved the rape and brutal murder of a young woman by her own father. Nights like this were never what he had planned, but somehow, he always enjoyed their spontaneity and simpleness, in his own way. Right now, he was just a friend looking after a friend. 

Minutes passed by. Several more sips of coffee were taken at such slow succession that the content of the cup was not longer warm. Dale thought, drank coffee, thought some more, ran a hand over his hair to keep it in place, watched Harry, thought some more. How much time had passed? There wasn’t a clock that he could see. Harry was still asleep. Everything was okay. More thinking. Gradually, the coffee ran out. The cup was discarded with a sigh to the floor. His eyes began to burn. 

He had just begun to considered whether or not closing his eyes briefly would mean the inevitable giving-in to eventual sleep when Harry stirred. He had made several noises during Coop’s bedside vigilance so far, so this one only just gain his attention for a second before his mind turned back to the question at hand. But then, the Sheriff let out a low moan and turned towards Cooper, eyes barely opened, but opened all the same. This time, Coop gave his full attention to the man before him. 

“Harry?” He reached out a hesitant hand, wondering if his friend was awake enough to be touched, or if a hand on his shoulder would wake Harry past all hope of sleeping again. And right now, Coop just wanted his friend to be able to sleep and forget all that had happened to him for as long as possible. He did not want him to relive the pain. 

Before Cooper could make up his mind, however, Harry grasped his hand in his, not in the strong, controlled way that he had before, but softly-- gently, his fingers stroking over Dale’s knuckles. This was the grasp of a lover, he thought briefly before return the gesture. 

“Josie…” 

Cooper felt his heart begin to bleed at Harry’s words. “No, Harry,” he murmured. “Not Josie. It’s just Dale.” 

A sudden rush a guilt swept through him that he could not be Josie when that was what Harry so clearly wanted. He knew it was ridiculous-- it was not his fault he could not be Josie-- but he remembered the pain of thinking he had his Caroline back in his arms, only to find that the phantom fingers belonged to a nurse, who cared more for the gaping wound in his stomach than for the invisible crushing if his heart. It hurt and he knew it, and he wished he could take it all away for Harry. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered at last, emotion clouding his voice. 

Harry shut his eyes again, his brow furrowing, as he slowly adjusted to wakefulness. “Dale,” was all he said, his voice low and cracked. It occurred to Dale that he had never seen Harry inebriated and that he did not know what the other man would act like. Maybe, this was due in part to the consumption of alcohol. 

Harry still had not let go of Dale’s hand, and his finger’s continued to draw light patterns over the agent’s hand. It was possible that he simply had not awoken to the point where he could be in complete control over his actions, or that, despite his acknowledgment of Dale’s name, he still thought the hand he was holding belonged to Josie. Cooper didn’t know, but if Harry wasn’t going to sever their connection, he wouldn’t either. 

“Yes, Harry. It’s just Dale. Not anyone else. I’m staying here with you tonight.” 

“Mmm.” the Sheriff rubbed a hand over his eyes before looking at Coop, all pretense of sleep gone from his demeanor. “Why’s that?”

“Well, Harry--” Cooper ran a hand over his hair again “-- I know what it’s like to feel this sort of pain, and I also know what it’s like to wake up afterwards and be completely alone. So, I’m staying with you tonight. It’s never good to be alone, especially not during a time like this.” 

“Mm-hm.” Harry sat up, his face directly across from Cooper’s now. “Yeah. Thanks, Coop.” 

As if he had just noticed he was still holding Cooper’s hand, Harry looked down and dropped the contact as Dale watched. He felt a flash of sorrow at their disconnection, although why, he didn’t know. Maybe he still felt bad that he couldn’t be Josie-- that he couldn’t be what Harry so desperately needed right now. 

“I’m just doing what I wish someone would have done for me, for you.” He offered Harry a sad smile, but he did not return it. “There’s no need to thank me. But I’m here for you, if you need anything. Anything at all.”

And he meant it. It was as if he had a chance to change his own wretched fate after Caroline’s death through Harry, and he meant to take every opportunity to do so. Where he had been drowning in sorrow, he would make sure Harry was keeping his head above the water. Where he had been completely alone, he would make sure Harry had someone to lean on. Where he had felt his life was dying, he would make sure Harry knew this wasn’t the end. 

Somehow, in that moment, it just seemed right that Cooper should take Harry’s hand again, to let his friend know that he was there, that even if he couldn’t be Josie, he could be present. There had rarely been any awkwardness between the two men, and now was no exception, because when Cooper took Harry’s hand, the latter did not hesitate in the slightest before squeezing back. Cooper felt something within him soften. 

“Cooper, you’re my best friend,” Harry said, still staring at the two hands that rested together, intertwined, his voice slightly slurred from the alcohol. But even so, the words made Cooper’s heart constrict. When was the last time someone had addressed him as their ‘best friend?’ Surely, not since the fourth grade, at the latest. And yet, now, even though the love of Harry’s life had just passed away, he was telling him that. It warmed Cooper to a degree that he was unsure he would ever be able to communicate to Harry. 

“You’re… You’re my best friend too, Harry.” 

Then, “I’m happy… I’m happy that if it couldn’t be her, it could be you instead. Here.”

Cooper gave the Sheriff’s hand a squeeze, because, despite the fact that his head had been lowered for some time, Cooper got the distinct feeling that, if Harry would have met his eyes, he would have been able to see tears falling down his cheeks. And it pained him to think that. He tried to think of something-- anything-- to say, but his mind supplied him with nothing quite good enough. As he considered it, however, he began to think that silence was the best option-- soft, understanding, unquestioning silence. 

A droplet of water fell onto his hand, and if Cooper had not already been suspecting of the tears, he likely would have brushed such a small feeling off as nothing. But he knew. Harry gasped in a shaking breath beside him, and Cooper again felt that desperate need to do something to lessen his friend’s grief, to take it on himself instead. He would have done that for Harry-- he would have suffered Caroline’s death twice over, if it meant Harry would have been spared all this. He didn’t deserve it. 

“Harry…” Cooper trailed off, this being one of the few times that he had said something just to say it, without any plan of what was to follow. The next part seemed to follow naturally after a few short second of Harry’s muted sobs. “Oh, Harry, I’m so sorry.” 

“I don’t want to be alone, Coop.” Harry looked up, and Dale’s previous ideas were only further confirmed at Harry’s red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Somehow, the sight of him hurt worse than anything else. “I don’t want to be alone. I want her back… So bad. I don’t want to live without her-- I can’t.” 

“You can,” Cooper told him, his tone changing from gentle to almost forceful in its conviction. “I know it seems impossible now, but I promise you, Harry, you _can_ do it. You’re not alone here just because she’s gone. I will be with you every step of the way.”

For the second time that night, Harry pulled Cooper into a tight embrace, his tears wetting Cooper’s new flannel shirt, but the agent didn’t mind. All that mattered to him now was the feeling of Harry pressed tightly against him, his soft hair brushing the underside of his jaw, the shaking sobs that racked his whole body with such sorrow that Cooper felt it too. And yet, despite all the pain-- all the regret, tears, and guilt-- there was a certain comfort he felt, and, more than comfort, a certain sense of something bordering very close to happiness. To have his best friend in his arms, to be able to offer all his care and support to someone in need did make him feel happy. Maybe not the sort of sparkle-eyed, bubbling happiness he often felt, but a deep-rooted content and warmth that he knew he would not be able to shake for a long time to come. 

For some time, all the existed in that little cabin was Harry and Cooper, and the comfort each offered the other in their own way. Nothing else seemed to matter. After a while, Harry’s tears abated, but he did not let go of Cooper and Cooper did not let go of him. They simply clung to each other, occasionally offering light pats on the back or murmured words of support. It went without saying that none of what was happening was to ever leave this room, that come the morning sun, there would be no more mention of this. But Cooper was content in that-- it was just enough to know that tonight had happened, even if it never left the safety of Dale’s lips. 

Finally, after what seemed like both an infinity and a second, Harry separated himself from Cooper with a light pat on the back. No word of thanks was exchanged between them, but Coop knew that he had given Harry something with that embrace that he needed, and could see it in his eyes that the simply word ‘thanks’ could not express the depth of his feelings. The agent gave the sheriff a slight smile-- _I know what you mean; you don’t have to try and express it._ The sheriff returned it. 

The feeling of Harry’s bed beneath him and going as long as he had without speaking had managed to lull Cooper into a state of dream-like consciousness, in which his perception, while still receiving all that was going on, was slightly blurred around the edges. He blinked several times, but was unable to shake the feeling. His head spun with exhaustion as the last of the caffeine died out of his system, but he could not sleep while Harry needed him. He would not sleep.

Harry rubbed his eye. “You’ve been here all night, Coop?”

“Yes. And I’ll stay until morning.” 

“Cooper.” Harry shook his head and laid down in his bed, now staring up at the other man. “You’re exhausted. You need sleep.” 

“Harry, it would be wrong of me to sleep when you need someone by your side. I would be abandoning my duty, and I could never do that.” Even as he spoke, Dale felt a strong desire to lay down beside Harry and close his eyes, just for a minute. 

“Don’t talk like that. You’ve done enough.” Harry closed his eyes. “And you sitting here losing sleep over me isn’t going to help anything. I appreciate everything you’ve done, Coop-- I really do, more than words can say. But I’m going to go to sleep, because I don’t want to be awake anymore, and I want you to do the same. Okay?” 

“Okay.” 

If Harry wanted him to sleep, Cooper didn’t want to argue. And he had a point-- him losing sleep over a tragedy he could not fix wasn’t going to help anyone. As if from another world, he felt himself laying down in the bed next to Harry and pulling the covers up to his chin. 

“There you go.” Harry said as he turned over and flicked off the lamp that had been on since Cooper had come to the house far earlier that day. For the first time, darkness surrounded the two men, and Cooper instantly knew that under the cover of night, he would completely unable to resist the charms of sleep. The world began to fade away…

“If you’re sleeping here…” Harry’s voice dragged him back into barely regained consciousness, and Cooper turned over, curling in on himself. “...You aren’t really leaving my side anyway.”

“I s’pose you’re right,” Cooper mumbled. From beside him, he felt the heat radiating off of Harry’s body and the slight tremble of the bed with every breath his friend took. He knew he had never quite gotten over Caroline’s death, even though most days it didn’t hurt anymore, and maybe it was just because of the similarity between her and Josie’s passing, but it felt good-- so _good_ \-- to be something other than alone tonight with Harry. There was someone there for him if he happened to wake up, and if Harry happened to do the same, Cooper would be there for him. 

“Mm. Goodnight, Coop,” came Harry’s voice from beside him, his breath ghosting his face as he spoke. His bare feet brushed lightly against Cooper’s socked ones, but it felt nice, being reminded that there was another person there, just out of sight in the darkness. Cooper smiled. 

“Goodnight, Harry.” 

And for the first time since those nights with Caroline so long ago, he felt a faint but familiar warmth beginning to grow in his chest, spreading through his heart. It was funny, he thought as he drifted off to sleep, that after so many years of pushing it away and pushing it away, it was coming back now. He had thought he might have lost it forever. 

He fell asleep before he could think of what exactly _it_ was that was spreading through him as Harry’s fingertips brushing lightly over his under the pillows.

**Author's Note:**

> How'd you guys like this? I know it's not super romancy, but I'd love to hear what you guys thought!


End file.
